Sunday, September 18, 2011

The other evening, after a pretty good day ~ nice brushing, good dinner, etc. etc., I was out munching on my hay, when Mother came out to give me my goodbye kiss and treats.

Usually she carries the Herballs in her hand, or in a pocket, I suppose, and a few times even in a bag, but this time she was holding a small plastic container. OK.

She kissed me on my schnozzle, and as she straightened up and offered her hand holding the treats, I heard it:

Tat tat TAt TATAT Tat.

SNAKE!!!RATTLESNAKE!!!!!

I leapt backwards a horse's length, spun around, leapt one more stride then spun around again to spot the rattler and to check on Mother's welfare. After all, I did just kind of leave her there when I heard the shake of his scales.

If I didn't know better, it almost sounded like it was coming from Mother.

Mother looked pained. Oh, no! Was she bitten? Then I realized it was because she was trying not to laugh. Not the reaction I was expecting...

She advanced toward me, right over the place where the snake obviously had to be, and I heard the subtle rustle of the rattle again as Mother moved. She offered me a few treats. I was concerned, and ready to run if the snake made it's location known, but I ate the Herballs.

Mother then proceeded to Belle, where I swear I heard the rattler again (Is it following Mother?), but Belle seemed unruffled as she accepted a few treats. Mother made her way back to me. I regarded the whole situation with suspicion, but finished up the treats she offered.

Mother reassured me it was OK, she only had treats, that the sound was coming from the Herballs in the plastic container moving about. Um, no. Are you trying to train me that rattlesnakes have treats?!?
I don't think so.

It was a very stressful experience.

Mother laughs that "You can take the horse out of the feral, but you can't take the feral out of the horse". Um, I believe you are using an adjective as a noun, and anyway, that's not being feral, that's just good common sense to stay away from rattlesnakes. I have no idea what she is talking about. And her saying that there are no rattlesnakes where we live is just plain foolhardy.

See the weird oozy abrasiony thing on my otherwise gorgeous cheek? This and several others in varying areas sprouted up on me last year at this time of year.

This year I have some, although none are in the same places as last year... one lower on my face, a few on my neck and shoulder on each side, but worst, one on the big bug welt on my belly. So I have this big welt with two oozy unhappy parts to it. Yulck.

None of this year's spots look as bad as the one in the picture, except maybe the one on my belly welt. Mother picks at these things and puts SWAT on them. She sighs. She says if they went away last year on their own, they'll go away this year, too.

Apparently, I'm on some sort of limited HMO. How does one get good health care these days?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

What form I had was worms and hair, since my tooth bothered me so much I only ate because I had to. And I actually weighed more than when Mother met me in August, because she sent dewormers for a hundred horses. There were a lot of us in the bachelor band.

See the ribs? yeah.

I was turned into a Ohio friendly package and sent to Mother a couple of days before Christmas. As it was about 7 weeks later, I was even thinner.

It took only getting my infected tooth out and some good food, deworming, and 3 months to look like this:

Thursday, September 1, 2011

She was bred by a good cow-horse family, bought by the aunts before she was yet two years old, and lived with them over 31 years. Her breeders' son was her farrier for the first twenty plus years of her life. When they decided to breed her, she had two lovely foals by his stallion.

She carried her young owner in the show ring, on the trail, and through life. She willingly shouldered her owner's joys, tears, fears through high school, college, first dates, first jobs.

She carried many small children with grace and exceptional care.

She helped a friend with disabilities know the comfort and joy that it is to be found astride a good horse.

Grazing in the garden paddock, April 2010

She had a choke that was unable to resolve. It was the first and only choke she had. There was no food in the obstruction; the doctors that treated her think it was a tumor, or a tumor combined with a dislodged and swallowed tooth. She was never suffering, just a bit discomforted, but the answer when the obstruction could not be cleared was obvious, although not easy.

At 33, she still had a shine to her coat, mischief in her eye, and sprightliness in her trot and even an occasional canter.

From the beginning: My introduction

I am a fifteen year old horse named Boyfriend, sometimes Bif. Sometimes "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown". Sometimes names I really don't think bear repeating. After years of misappropriating mother's phone and email, I now have my own site.

All of the stuff under My Favorite Grazing Places and Mother's Favorite Sites are unpaid (why would I need money?), Mother just really likes them and likes to share. She can be a generous sort, at times...